The Rise of a Dwemer
by J.G.Lukasiewicz1919
Summary: Loryvn Sederthi, or now as he is better known... Nevindam Tzezhurz, has declared himself as the last member of the Dwarven race, and plans to rebuild the Dwemer Empire... But being the last Dwarve means he'll need help, and that's what he has but his plans come to an abrupt halt when a Gate opens in Skyrim and old foes become new allies. Will he join? Or will he remain in the dark?
1. Chapter 1

**The Fourth Era...**

In the depths of Nirn, on the contenent of Tamriel "stood" a city unlike most others on the planet, this city was Blackreach, one of the most important cities to a race of mer of which lived long ago, these mer were called the Dwemer, a race of intelligent beings of which existed from Morrowind, Skyrim, and to a much lesser degree, High Rock and Cyrodil. These mer had advanced far beyond what other races on nirn, or atleast in Tamriel.

But they had long since vanished and their city states had fallen mostly into disrepair. Though through this they had not become uninhabited, in some places, most worthy of note, Markarth. Nords, Redguard, and some others had taken up residence there. Atleast on the surface they had. Otherwise, below the soil and rock, the city still belonged to... Others.

Falmer and Dwemer machines with life breathed into them, built for the sole purpose of defense still remained below in the depths of the city, Blackreach itself was also much of the same, but lesser so, the Falmer were all slaughtered wherever they were found... As were the slaves they took, or perhaps they were worshippers?

...Regardless. The Falmer were slaughtered by one mer of whom with the aid of dwemer machines, retook Blackreach from it's unwelcome guests. The mer in question was a what had become known since years long past, a dunmer or dark elf, they shared some similarities to the dwemer, sadly not in the area of intelligence... But looks were somewhat the same, mostly, except for the red eyes. Loryvn Sederthi at one point was a bright, socialble man.

Though in recent years the latter wasn't the case anymore, Loryvn had from a young age had a deep fascination with the Dwemer, from their devices, to knowledge preserved from them, in his teen years he had begun collecting books of which were written by other scholars on the Dwemer, in his years becoming a man... His collection expanded to various oddities of the Dwemer, from pieces of armour, weaponry, even the minute cog or piece of metal could be found in his collection.

In years more recently... Loryvn's fascination became a sort of strange obsession, upon exploring a Dwemer ruin on his own he had come into contact with an otherworldly being, he believed was a possible spirit... This spirit had protected him from harm from the Dwemer machines of which guarded the ruin, though he didn't see it, he could feel it. All around him. What was the purpose of this spirit? Could it be that it saw something in Loryvn of which caused the machines to instead of attack. Serve, the dunmer.

It was something he himself didn't know how to interpret, but that was when his mind had finally fell apart, instead of being Loryvn, he had become something, someone else entirely. That day he had decided he wouldn't be the dunmer Loryvn Sederthi, instead he would become Nevindam Tzezhurz, the last member of the Dwemer race, and rightful ruler of all the Dwemer had, as such he began growing a beard and decorated it as he had seen time and time before in the fashion of the Chief Tonal Architect, Kagrenac and the King, Dumac.

Nevindam took up residence in the city of Blackreach, surrounded by his army, his machines. For him this would be his capital, the start, the seat of power for his empire. But what would an Empire be without forging itself stronger through warfare, he had considered, uniting the cities' remaining Dwemer machines under his control, something he could have done fairly easily but such soldiers would not be so easily replaced in battle, no. He would have to look elsewhere...

And he did. All over Tamriel notes had started to pop up, claiming great fortune for anyone of whom could brave the defences of the Dwemer city of Mzinchaleft and reach the city of Blackreach would be handsomely rewarded, many who came were but the odd groups of bandits, some actual warriors, nonetheless those of whom did make it through found themselves welcomed by Nevindam himself.

And found themselves in a position they couldn't refuse... Join the new army of the Dwemer or die. Most accepted, not out of choice or enthusiasm for the latter choice. And soon Nevindam found himself with a somewhat respectable army, mostly former sell swords, some former soldiers here and there, a small percentage of mages. Though most would never see the face of their new lord.

Only those deemed worthy enough, or showed any tactical prowess became "generals" in Nevindam's army and to that effect, close to Nevindam. Now all he needed was a conflict, something to strengthen... Or should it be decided, break, his army. And that was just what he'd get.

* * *

"My lord.. ...My lord... My lord Tzezhurz!" Nevindam almost jumped out of his chair, his right hand began to have electricity run around it, looking around he'd find two of his General before him kneeling, and his adviser, Lassicilia Rienidus, a former centurion of the Cyrodilic Empire's Imperial Army standing to Nevindam's side with a hand on his shoulder. "Ah, I see. How long have I been asleep?" Nevindam asked looking to Lassicilica of whom stood up straight taking her hand from Nevindam's shoulder.

"I'd suppose maybe five or ten minutes your excellency." Nevindam nodded his head then looked to his generals, the one to his left hand was a male orc, Krogan Mursh, originally he was a bandit but when he and his comrades were given the choice between die like cowards or join the Dwemer army... He along with two others joined, the rest... Their fate was... Lacklustre to say the least. The one to his right hand was a male nord, Aenarlam the Fearless, a former officer in Ulfric Stormcloak's army, he lead a medium sized force into Mzinchaleft under the orders to destroy whatever force was gathering there... Ultimately, clearly, he ended up joining instead.

"Gentlemen. What have you to report?" Nevindam rose from his throne and descended the stairs to meet his Generals eye to eye, it was his way of showing respect to them, the least he could do when they offered their lives to him. Both rose from their positioned and held their fists to their chests bowing once more. "Your excellency. We've reports from the above, there is an army closing in on Mzinchaleft, it is believed to be the Imperial army but our scouts report they are using strange beasts... Pigmen and even strange looking..." Aenarlam stopped himself before looking to Krogan then continuing. "Strange looking orcs, your excellency, they seem to be advance troops for the main forces."

"Those blue-skins aren't family to me." Krogan said crossing his arms looking to Aenarlam. "I see... How is our army then?" Nevindam said passing by the two Generals to the centre of the room, they in-turn turned to Nevindam. "We can hold out indefinitely, I and Krogan have managed to whip the sorry whelps into a fighting force to rival the Imperial Army, even the Stormcloaks should it come down to it. But that's if we decide to hold the machines back for reserves, should we decide to send in both the machines and our forces, it'll be a definite slaughter for the Imperials."

Nevidam smiled and turned to his Generals, though they couldn't see it given he wore a mask fashioned to look like King Dumac. "Good... Good. Then this is how we shall fight. Our forces will allow them to enter Mzinchaleft, then using both our machines and our men we shall slaughter them in the halls. While we have them pre-occupied no doubt the Stormcloaks will have seen this and rush to battle, they will see this as a way to kill both sides off in one fell swoop. We shall then hole up, seal the doors and allow both sides to rip each other apart. While this is happening we shall send another force through the great lift and we shall crush them with a pincer movement... One I shall lead myself."

Nevidam spoke confidently, this would be a fight he would earn his title in... Or he would die trying. "Your excellency, I must protest!" Lassicilica yelled coming down from her usual spot next to Nevidam's throne. "Putting your own life in danger threatens your empire sir! I cannot allow you to make such a mistake!" Nevidam sighed and held his hands behind his back. "Lassicilica... If it is such a concern to you then I shall remain behind the lines and not join the lower ranks in battle. And I shall take two centurions with me. Shall that satisfy your concern for me?" Nevidam asked looking down to Lassicilica, Lassicilica hated it when Nevidam did that.. Mainly due to her small stature she wasn't taken seriously for the most part but when she did speak her concerns were valid most of the time, this time was no different of course.

"Yes... Your excellency... Thank you." Lassicilica said before returning back to her post right next to Nevidam's throne. "Then let us not waste any time, Generals! You are to prepare your men, make sure the corridors are filled with our men, shields, spears, and swords only... Mages will remain in the rear to cast restoration spells. We are going to war." Nevidam spoke with a certain degree of fire in his voice. He was serious... An Imperial attack on the capital of his Empire? This wouldn't be taken lightly, but all wasn't as it seemed... It was an empire attacking yes, but it was a foreign one. Not the Cyrodilic Empire.

Nevidam left the throne room with his advisor walking down the long stone carved, dimly lit hallway of which lead to his throne room, it was one of two, the first lead from the centre of the city of blackreach, then the second lead to his private quarters. "Wait out here Lassicilica. You yourself should ready for battle, encase if it should come." Nevidam entered his private quarters and shut the door behind himself, walking to his wardrobe he removed his robes and shoes, donning his armour, it was anything but the standard Dwemer armour. Of course it was mostly made out of the same materials but it was lighter, fancier, caped and enchanted, donning his armour then his boots and gauntlets, one of his gauntlets was his most prized possession, Wraithguard.

Wraithguard was an ancient device crafted by the Dwemer's chief tonal architect, Kagrenac. Afterwards Nevidam donned his helmet of which was a somewhat fairly standard Dwemer helmet except with the faceplate removed, this was a custom helmet of his own he had forged long ago, afterwards he'd take his dagger, the Keening. A dagger made of aetherium ore of which used with Wraithguard and Sunder were what caused the disappearance of the Dwemer. His next weapon was his own personal favourite, a dwarven staff of which was enchanted with a powerful lightning spell of which caused the intended target and those around it to die a somewhat fast death.

"My dear old possessions... The time has come to spill the blood of those who would threaten our place in this world..." Nevidam smiled under his mask and turned around to see his personal sphere guardian behind him, blade sharpened and ready for battle. "Ah, my most loyal companion... And guard. Come." Nevidam motioned for the Sphere to follow him of which it did, leaving his quarters he'd see Lassicilica running from her quarters further down the hall in her armour of which Nevidam had forged himself, it was a light armour but also enchanted and fitted perfectly for Lassicilica, allowing her great mobility on the field of battle of needed. "Lassicilica. I see the armour still fits perfectly, in these recent months you've been wearing stranger and tighter fitting clothing, you were beginning to concern me as to whether or no I should forge you a new set..."

Lassilica stopped just short of Nevidam with her helmet under her right arm holding her fist to her chest. "Of course not your excellency, I've been keeping in perfect shape to continue wearing this armour you graciously made for me, to fall out of shape and be unable to wear this would be... It wouldn't be right." Nevidam smiled and began walking with his staff while the bottom hit the floor, returning to his throne room from the hallway to his quarters to see Krogan and Aenarlam conversing with a soldier dressed in the standard Dwemer armour.

"News from the front?" Nevidam spoke while he entered the room with Lassicilica following behind him as if she was his shadow. Krogan and Aenarlam as well as the soldier quickly turned to face Nevidam bringing their fists up to their chests. "We've captured one of the banners of the enemy from their camp... And discovered something strange your highness." Aenarlam spoke motioning for the soldier to leave the room. "Bring the banner and our guest!" Aenarlam yelled to the soldier of whom a short time brought the captured banner and the captive soldier was brought by two others of whom brought him to his knees before Nevidam muttering in a foreign language.

"What sort of daedra trickery is this..." Nevidam spoked of which caught the attention of the captive soldier who began what could and or could not have been obscenities at the Dunmer turned Dwemer. "Silence yourself!" Krogan quickly walked over and punched the captive soldier in the face as hard as he could... Which for an Orc was fair enough to say he ended up knocking him unconscious. "How troubling..." Nevidam sighed and nodded his head before looking to Krogan of whom quickly dropped to a knee. "My apologies! I had forgotten myself your highness!"

Nevidam motioned for the two soldiers to take the now unconscious captive soldier. "Strip him of his armour and leave him in rags in the cages separate from the Falmer! ...Now as for this..." Nevidam turned his attention to the captured banner of which Aenarlam held one corner of wide open so Nevidam could get a better look at it, it wasn't any sort of Imperial banner he had seen before, yes there was a dragon on it, that much could clearly be seen but it wasn't in any imperial colours. And had a design different from the usual standard Imperial banners, both those of which flew over Imperial cities and Imperial Legion encampments.

"How peculiar... This isn't any sort of Imperial banner I've seen before." Nevidam noted while he observed the banner. It didn't take long for Lassilica to speak up herself. "I've never seen any Imperial banners like this before, not in the Cyrodiil, Solitude, or anywhere... This can't be the Empire attacking us." Lassilica said while she stepped up next to Nevidam looking up to him.

"You're indeed right Lassilica... This banner is from an Empire... But not the one we think. ...Was anything else seized at the enemy encampment?" Nevidam asked looking to both Krogan and Aenarlam. "Well your highness... It's hard to describe, and I think we should put more men as well as machines on it, no doubt since this isn't an Imperial or Stormcloak attack I believe we can expect no interference from the Imperials or Stormcloaks until they fully evaluate the situation." Krogan said rising from his knee.

"You're right Krogan... They wouldn't... Which is why I want you to send two messengers, one to the nearest Imperial camp and another to the nearest Stormcloak camp, if these invididuals are from an empire... But not one from our continent then they are an invading force, perhaps we can do what the dragonborn has failed... Or possibly doesn't care to do, and end this civil war... If only for a moment or two."


	2. Chapter 2 Battle of Mzinchaleft

**To be edited to add on more to this chapter at a later time. Getting this out as is to allow those curious to know I've not given up on this.**

* * *

 **The Fourth Era...**

* * *

"Already I see our forces have pushed back these peons..." Nevidam said as he strode through the wounded set off to the side in a corridor being tended to by mages and their comrades. "It appears that way my lord." Lassicilica said as she walked along said Nevidam through the wounded, some raising their fists in salute. "Long live the King!" A Nord yelled before he collapsed back onto his back, losing consciousness. "Hmm... I suppose Krogen and Aenarlam should be congratulated on their job well done in training this army." Nevidam said before he left the corridor and before him, his army stood, clad in dwemer armour, forged in Blackreach by the forgemasters and their lord, they certainly looked more frightening than the Imperials did.

"We should get moving. The messengers? They've left haven't they?" Nevidam asked Lassicilica as he walked to the head of the army with his staff, a sphere guardian and a steam centurion joining behind him and Lassicilica. "Yes, my lord. They've made it clear, the first one left through Alftand, the other left through Raldbthar. They'll reach Solitude and Windhelm in a couple days. However I'm certain we'll have these fools beaten back soon." Lassilica said and bowed her head before going back behind the lines. So. The glory of putting down these attackers belonged solely to Nevidam and his forces. "Then. We shall break them." Nevidam said before he turned around and faced his men who now closed ranks after Lassicilica had went back behind the troops.

"Soldiers of the Dwemer Empire! Nord battle brothers and sisters! Imperial brother and sisters! Elven brothers and sisters! Today we fight not for the Dwemer Empire, but for all of Tamriel! The foes before us are not from the Imperial legion, nor the stormcloaks! Though dressed similar they are not the same! So worry not, you're not fighting brothers and sisters of which many of you may know. You fight one of an empire far away! We shall break these scum like an ancient steel blade upon our mighty brass! We shall not rest until they all lay down their weapons and submit! And the other powers of Skyrim will finally come to the negotiation table and end this civil war, we shall be the ones to head these talks as after today our powers shall never again be questioned! We shall have peace, hard fought and won! Stories and songs shall be written and sung of the men of brass who put an end to a war by fighting another! Now my brothers and sisters! Today is a good day to die!" Nevidam yelled, raising his staff to the air and the army before him let out three cheers before Nevidam turned and pointed his staff out to the doors leading to the outside. "Let today be remembered forever in the minds and hearts of those who hear of it! With me my brothers and sisters!" Nevidam yelled before the army took that as their marching orders and began advancing with spears at the ready, behind their King.

Nevidam walked ahead of his forces with his steam centurion and sphere guardian beside him. His cape fluttering as the cold breeze of Skyrim's north had hit his eyes through the two vision holes in his mask. As Nevidam was the first out he was targeted by Saderan archers who let off a barrage of arrows before his troops rushed ahead and used their shields to prevent an arrow from striking their leader, after the barrage had ended, they broke ranks and Nevidam pointed his staff of lightening at the archers above and struck them with lightening causing them to fall off the bridges above. During this his troops broke ranks around their King, advancing up the stairs using their shields for cover while the archers got a taste of their own by Dwemer sphere guardians who followed the main organic forces of Nevidam's army out of Mzinchaleft.

Lassicilica came out with both the Generals as the fighting had finally reached the outside of Mzinchaleft, the steam centurions in single file lines followed and went up the stairs to join the fighting, that was one advantage Nevidam's army had. The Animunculi of the Dwemer served Nevidam's whims. Where if interacted with beforehand, these machines would've surely killed people like Lassicilica and Nevidam's generals, however with them under Nevidam's command they conformed to serve him and the appropriate ranks. Being the Generals and officers of Nevidam's army. Though the lower ranks did have access to the spider workers. Nevidam started up the stairs leading out of the "ruins" of the Dwemer city, bodies littered the way, namely bodies of the enemy. Nevidam couldn't be more proud of his men.

"Krogen! I know you're behind us, as are you Aenarlam. Your forces are exceeding my expectations. Good work." Nevidam said before he stopped halfway up the stairs to see his assumption was correct, Krogen, the Orc, and Aenarlam, the Nord were following behind Lassicilica. Both bowed their heads to Nevidam, speaking in unison. "Thank you, my lord!" The two shouted out while the cries of the dying and the shouts of those fighting could be heard. "Hmm... Well we should join our forces. Is the pincer coming up the lift?" Nevidam asked and Aenarlam raised his head. "Yes, my lord. The pincer with the Animunculi are already on their way with some of our reserves, given the large size of our foe and our own force, it's best to let the Animunculi do a majority of the hard work. But no doubt after this battle word will spread and many will seek to join us... As I already suspect, our lord wants to take the fight to our foes on the other side of the large structure I mentioned our forces gained control of earlier." Aenarlam said and Nevidam smiled under his mask.

"Indeed. You are right on that assumption." Nevidam said as he continued up the stairs, hearing the sounds of his beloved machines putting the foes of his rule down. ..It was strangely calming to him. But regardless. He secretly could only wonder what he could do with a sort of Numidium of his own. One like the Dwarves were intending to design, instead of wasting the heart of Lorkhan on that foolhardy chase for immortality. Letting out an audible sigh at his wistful thinking he could only wish for such a thing, and know. It'd not be achieved. Not in his life time anyway. Leaving the ruins, Nevidam saw as the full scope of the battle was taking place, a nearby stormcloak camp had decided to join in the battle and just as where the stormcloaks go, the Imperials were sure to follow. ...Atleast Nevidam's story would hold up with the other sides commanders when his messengers reach their destinations.


End file.
